She seemed to
have passed into a kind of dream world, absolved from the conditions of
actuality. She watched the sordid streets of the town go by beneath
her, as if she were a spirit disconnected from the material universe.
What had it all to do with her? She was palpitating and formless within
the flux of the ghost life. She could not consider any more, what
anybody would say of her or think about her. People had passed out of
her range, she was absolved. She had fallen strange and dim, out of the
sheath of the material life, as a berry falls from the only world it
has ever known, down out of the sheath on to the real unknown.
Birkin was standing in the middle of the room, when she was shown in by
the landlady. He too was moved outside himself. She saw him agitated
and shaken, a frail, unsubstantial body silent like the node of some
violent force, that came out from him and shook her almost into a
swoon.
'You are alone?' he said.
'Yes--Gudrun could not come.'
He instantly guessed why.
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